


Your Princess is in Another Timeline

by autoeuphoric (FreezingRayne)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Breathplay, Dirty Talk, Fantasizing, Irony, M/M, Masturbation, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 14:06:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4022689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreezingRayne/pseuds/autoeuphoric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As if you needed further proof that the universe is out to flip you over and plunder your waste chute. You're burning red hot for the most deplorable, uncultured jackass to ever be coughed up by paradox space. And okay, maybe that red still has a black edge to it, but that's okay right? A little quadrant overlap keeps things interesting. At least it does in all the movies.</p>
<p>(Dave ironically dirty talks and Karkat gets a little worked up.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Princess is in Another Timeline

**Author's Note:**

> I just read Homestuck for the first time this month and it has been devouring my brain. I know I'm six years late to this party, but I can't resist these nerds. 
> 
> This takes place before the retcon, so Karkat and Dave are post-bros and pre-boyfriends.

You've been on this bulge-numbing space journey for a little less than a sweep and a half when you realize that something terrifying has happened.

And yeah, terrifying is nothing new, because life on Alternia hadn't exactly been a trip to the sand-tundra, what with culling drones and a staggering number of assholes crawling around the surface of the planet. And you're used to extreme situations, considering the endless reams of excrement you've had to deal with since you'd entered the game. You never would have volunteered to be leader if you'd known what a shitshow you were facing.

But what you're not prepared for is the reality that somehow, against all reasonable odds, Dave Fuckboy Strider has become your best friend. The two of you have been messaging back and forth for the last hour, ripping on basically everyone on the meteor, and sure you could walk 20 meters down the hall and do it in person, but then you couldn't talk such uncensored shit. Besides, typing feels nostalgic in a way that makes your horns buzz pleasantly. Reminds you of the halcyon days of old when you hated everybody and lacked the self-awareness to hold yourself responsible for your shortcomings. Good times.   

CG: HAVE YOU HEARD HIS LATEST RAP?

CG: SHIT MAKES MY SHAME GLOBES SHRIVEL UP AND TAKE COVER

TG: still don't know what those are and i'm fine with that

TG: but seriously

TG: nothing like waking up to disembodied honks and rhymes so slanted they slide right off the fuckin page

TG: i don't care how much you mangle the pronunciation

TG: _habitation_ does not rhyme with _ration._ not even if you're british

CG: I DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS

TG: its cool i can mock something else

TG: i think his rhythm has gotten worse

TG if thats even a thing thats possible

CG: I THINK ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE WHEN YOU LIVE IN THE VENTS AND HAVE NO FRIENDS AND FEED OFF NIBBLING-VERMIN

CG: AND ARE ALSO A PSYCHOTIC FUCKWIT

TG: idk man my bro was basically insane but his beats were hells of ill

TG: to the point that they even made me physically sick a couple times

TG: though now that i think about it that could have been from all the rusty fucking swords he stored in the fridge

CG: ROUGH

TG: i guess

TG: at least thanks to him im better prepared than most of us for living under the constant threat of physical and lyrical ambush

TG: the lack of puppet fetish porn is actually kinda refreshing

CG: YOUR HUMAN LUSUS SOUNDS EVEN WORSE THAN MINE. I MEAN, NOT MY HUMAN LUSUS. I DIDN'T HAVE ONE OF THOSE.

TG: yeah i got that bro

TG: i know you well enough to read through your misplaced modifiers

That's the first thing that makes you pause and pick your claws up from the keyboard. Dave isn't wrong--he does know you. And you know him. Well enough now to see through his thick layers of bullshit and human irony. Sometimes you can even tell there's a point buried beneath all of the garbage. You don't know how he does it--the idea of saying the exact opposite of what you mean 100% of the time makes your think-pan ache.

TG: are you sure its okay for you to be ripping on gamzee

TG: i know he's your diamonds cuddle-buddy

CG: MEH

TG: did you just meh your moirail

TG: thats ice cold

CG: WELL HOLD THE SPEAKER CRAB. WE GOT US AN EXPERT HERE.

CG: DAVE STRIDER, KNIGHT OF WASTING YOUR TIME WITH HIS FLAGRANTLY IGNORANT OPINIONS.

CG: EXACTLY HOW MANY RELATIONSHIPS HAVE YOU HAD THAT DIDN'T END IN MISERY AND AWKWARDNESS AND YOUR MATESPRIT RUNNING INTO THE ARMS OF A MURDEROUS CLOWN?

CG: OH, RIGHT. ZERO.

TG: wow

TG: ice

TG: fucking

TG: cold

CG: I JUST MEAN I LIKED IT BETTER WHEN YOU THOUGHT QUADRANTS WERE STUPID. I WASN’T TRYING TO GET ON YOU ABOUT TEREZI.

TG: i still think they're stupid

TG: because they are

TG: but jegus christ they are hard to avoid

TG: you can't swing a dead cat around here without someone trying to friend-date it

TG: i mean navigating the voluptuous fuckin curves of that stuff with terezi was bad enough

TG: not to mention the hate boner you had for me back in the day

CG: WHAT.

TG: dont even play bro

TG: you know you did

CG: NO

TG: you wanted to rage-fuck me so bad

TG: you were blazing darker for me than a blacktop in summer

TG: sizzling with the testicle sweat of a hundred professional basketball teams

CG: WHAT THE BLISTERING FUCK IS A BASKETBALL TEAM

TG: you wanted to make sweet hate to me

CG: STOP YOU PIECE OF DICKSHIT

TG: you wanted to be my pitch bitch

CG: OH MY GOD.

TG: you wanted to suck on my spades

CG: CAN WE PLEASE GO BACK TO MOCKING OTHER PEOPLE TO MAKE US FEEL BETTER ABOUT OUR OWN SHITTY LIVES. I LIKED THAT BETTER.

TG: it feels like you don't hate me the way you used to karkat

TG. that hurts

TG: i thought you cared

CG: THE FACT THAT YOU’RE SPOUTING OFF LIKE THIS MAKES IT CLEAR THAT YOU DON'T KNOW THE FIRST THING ABOUT BLACK ROMANCE

TG: yeah maybe

TG: but i know what to do with a bulge

You jerk your hands back from your keyboard like it's a hot nutrition preparation platform. On the screen Dave is still going into all the ways he could blow your caliginous mind. When he gets into one of his irony spirals, that’s it. You either have to block him or ride it till the end.

And wow, you really need to not be thinking about riding right now. Or how even reading the word _bulge_ in Dave's red text is making yours wake up and pay attention.

What really chafes your nook is that he's right. A sweep and a half ago you'd been needier than a wriggler with a dead lusus, so desperate you'd even confessed black feelings to a human--to _John,_ for fuck's sake.

But at least that screw up meant you knew better when you finally talked to Dave. Because if you'd thought John had been bad, it's nothing to the sheer hedonistic excess of think-pan numbing, torso-pillar tingling aggravation he had inspired in you.                 

It's actually kind of a pity that humans aren't wired for kismesissitude, because Dave would be such a good kismesis, so down to give you shit. But according to Rose, human biology doesn't tie rage together with mating urges. Hatred doesn't fill them with that tight, tingling need under their skin, to fight and snarl and dominate and pin the loser to the floor and ride their bulge, make them come with a hand around their throat, until you both collapse in a sticky heap, their shades sliding down the bridge of their nose, pale bangs in their eyes...

Motherfuck it. Somehow your Generic Fantasy Kismesis has gotten prototyped into Specific Human Douchebag--fragile skin, sweaty white hair, a face that blushes the same color as yours does.

Seriously, urge-chemicals, what the fuck? You don't think about Dave that way anymore, and you only ever did for about a day a sweep and a half ago. Any concupiscent feelings you had for any of those alien freaks got a dip in an icey water-valley as soon as you met them in person. They're so pale and soft and slow, with hair all over their bodies, and don't even get you started on the way they smell.

You can't even really tell if Dave is an attractive member of his species. By troll standards he's as white as a rainbow drinker and as scrawny as an underfed wriggler. He covers up half his fucking face with those enormous shades and he never shuts up. Ultimate toolbox.

But you've gotten into enough shoving fights with Dave to know that he's warm—mammal weirdness—and to start speculating how hot his breath would feel against your mouth. What you used to see as sluggishness you've started to think of as elegance, his skinny wrists as _slender,_ his douchey grins as _roguish_ and all these other bullshit romance novel terms that don't belong anywhere near _Dave Strider_ in your mental dictionary.

Besides, you're bros now. 100% confirmed bros. No fantasies here. And that isn't your bulge squirming in your pants, and you're not unzipping before it busts a fucking hole through them. And you have definitely never committed something to memory just because you’re sure Dave would find it hilarious, just like you've never sat around trying to come up with excuses to hassle him. And you are _absolutely_ not starting to like his crappy music.

Really, who are you kidding? You are so totally flushed for your best friend.

As if you needed further proof that the universe is out to flip you over and plunder your waste chute. Burning red hot for the most deplorable, uncultured jackass to ever be coughed up by paradox space. And okay, maybe that red still has a black edge to it, but that's okay right? A little quadrant overlap keeps things interesting. At least it does in all the movies.

Yeah, so, it'd be fine if after he trails his finger-hinges across your jaw so softly you barely feel the heat of his skin, he grabs your hair and yanks to bare your throat for his blunt human teeth and--okay, wow, you had no idea you had a xenokink, but your nook aches at the idea of all his weird-ass human parts interacting with yours. Your bulge slides a little further out of its sheath.

Time for the pants to come off, because you're not about to go to Kanaya and explain why you need a new pair. You glance at the husktop screen and  _fucking hell,_ Dave is still going. Probably off on one of his monologues full of references you don't understand. Or possibly he's still ironically dirty talking you.

Your bulge wraps around your hand as soon as you've got it out in the open. You give the base a squeeze and it oozes a few drops of genetic material onto your stomach. And because  you’re not really fooling anybody, you picture Dave in front of you, on his knees, mouth wide open so you can fill it, stop his inane rambling for once in his life. Yeah, that would really shut his shit down, pink lips wrapped around your bulge. You wouldn't even need to worry about his fangs. Motherfucker has no fangs. You picture him looking up at you, face bare for once, eyes...you don’t even know what color his eyes are.

God, this is so stupid. No way Dave would ever do this. Getting all close and personal with your bulge or your nook or any other part of your male body would be too  _gay._ Both Dave and Rose have attempted to explain this concept to you more than once, and every time you've wanted to throw yourself off the meteor, just to drown out the idiocy.

In the majority of human cultures, apparently the only socially permitted concupiscent relations are between males and females? And it's been this way through ALL OF FUCKING HISTORY, not even in just some busted alterna-Earth. Very best of all, to some humans being penetrated is considered a submissive and degrading act. Which is totally ridiculous, seeing as everyone knows that getting your nook fucked is the best part of sex. Like, that's what it's made for. Not that you know from personal experience, but all the books seem to agree.

Honestly, sometimes it seems best that Earth got wiped off the map. Save the rest of the universe from the sheer toxic cluelessness.

Fuck, this is really killing your buzz. Back to lewd, slightly shameful fantasies.

Dave would keep making jokes--no reason to assume that getting laid would make the ironic noises stop--so you would really have to work for it. Push him down against the bed and ride him until that insufferable cool cracks and the real Dave leaks out around the edges, face twisting in pleasure he's unable to resist. It'd be a challenge--but your tolerance for those has gone way up over the last sweep, and you know a thing or twelve about wrangling uncooperative bulgemunchers and making them work together. And when he does, when he stops trying to be cool and just moves with you...

You squeeze your bulge around your arm in liquid pulses, breaths deepening to rumbling purrs as fantasy Dave gets you on your stomach and fucks you with his weird and doubtlessly hilarious human appendage, giving it to you so hard you writhe and twist and pant his name. Fantasy Dave bites down on the back of your neck to hide his shuddering breaths, but you can tell anyway--being inside you is wrecking him.

"Nnnn  _shit_ ..."

You're getting wound up fast, toes pointing, thighs trembling, and you barely have time to grab a bucket from out of your sylladex (shut up everyone does it it's just being practical) before you're coming, pleasure shaking you from feet to horn-tips.

You're a hot, panting mess afterward, only slightly embarrassed by the thought you just rubbed one out to the image of getting fucked by such a hideous nooksniffer. If you're completely honest with yourself (and recently you've tried to be) you've been thinking about it for awhile. Dave never has to know.

You shake the trackpad on your husktop, the screen coming up on a wall of red text. Most of it is as insufferably stupid as always, but some of it makes you blush all the way to your hornbeds. Shit, you should've kept reading.

He appears to have lost patience in the last few messages.

TG: bro

TG: bro

TG: broooo

TG: earth to karkat

TG: or not earth

TG: last remaining human male in this universe apart from a nerd on a boat to karkat

TG: how am i supposed to talk shit if im just talking to myself

TG: dude where are you

TG: if you need time to jerk it just let me know

CG: OH MY GOD SHUT UP

TG: haha gotcha

CG: YOU GOT NOTHING STRIDER

TG: hey no judgement

TG: i’m great masturbation material i know this

CG: ACTUALLY YOU’RE RIGHT. I HAVE THIS FANTASY OF GRABBING YOU BY THE THROAT AND SQUEEZING UNTIL THE WORDS STOP COMING OUT. THAT SOUNDS BASICALLY ORGASMIC.

TG: you never know man.

TG: maybe there’s a version of me somewhere out there who would be down for all your kinky breathplay

CG: WHAT YOU MEAN ONE OF YOUR MILLION OTHER SELVES.

TG: sure why not

TG: you never know

TG: there’s a lot of timelines out there

 

        

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm 100% sure that Karkat is one of those people who can't focus on fantasies without flying off on tangents. Too many things to get pissed about. 
> 
> I'm autoeuphoric on tumblr. Hit me up let's talk about davekat!


End file.
